Research
by Ice Bear
Summary: Blair's work on an article is having not necessarily in his partner's best interest.


Blair got home late. He'd forgotten to call, and it was his night to cook. A young man working on his masters had volunteered to help the TA with research on an article he was working on, and time had gotten lost as they discussed the research perimeters. Terry had taken several of Blair's classes, and the TA had found him to be funny and smart during the many times he had taken advantage of his office hours. 

His offer, and their discussion, got Blair excited all over again about the article; which was a good thing considering that his advisor had reamed him a new one just that morning on the need to publish. Had Blair known that Terry had overheard the argument, and seen it was his chance to get close to the TA, perhaps he wouldn't have been so excited.

When the student had proposed dinner, Blair had hastily excused himself, and driven home as fast as legally possible. He had found the loft dark, except for the light over the kitchen sink, which Jim always left on for him.

"Jim?" He called softly, not wanting to wake his roommate.

"Hey, Chief. Everything okay?" Jim called down from his bedroom.

"I'm really sorry, man. I was talking with a student who's agreed to help with the research on that article I'm writing, and I totally lost track of time."

"Its okay, Sandburg – it happens. You still plan to come in tomorrow?"

"Yeah, in the afternoon. Maybe we could have a late lunch?"

"Sounds good, sleep well, Chief."

When the food cart rolled into Major Crimes at 10 the next morning, it was being pushed by a 20-something young man with black curly hair. "Where's Rosie?" Brown asked.

"Family emergency. You must be Detective Brown. Rosie said to save you a crawler." The young man looked over at Jim. "And you must be Detective Ellison. Two buttermilk donuts, right?"

"Thanks. Anything we can do to help Rosie?" Jim asked as he accepted the donuts.

"If there is, I'll let you know."

At 11:30 a.m. Jim felt uncomfortable; he was hot and his muscles ached. He figured it was probably some aliment Sandburg brought home from the U and dismissed it. When Blair still hadn't shown up by 2 p.m., he left to talk with an informant regarding rumors of a new drug being brought into the city.

Blair's stomach grumbled and he glanced at his watch. "Shit! I'm really late, Terry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Blair, where are you off to in such a hurry?" The younger man responded, grabbing the TA by the arm.

"I was supposed to meet Jim, my partner, two hours ago. Man, is he going to be pissed. First I blow off dinner last night, and now this. I have some serious groveling to do." Blair slipped out of the grasp, and finished stuffing papers in his backpack.

"Call him. He probably already had lunch. I'll buy, and we can make more headway." Jim's cell went straight to voice mail, and his desk phone was answered by Rhonda.

"There's a hostage situation at Capitol Bank. Everybody's there," she told him.

"Anyone hurt?"

"Not yet."

"Sorry, Terry, but I gotta go. Jim needs me."

"Explain to me why?" The hostile tone brought Blair up short, and he again wiggled out of the firm grasp on his forearm.

"He's my partner. I don't like the thought of him dealing with this alone – it's dangerous. Don't know what I'd do if something happened to Jim." He finished almost to himself.

"Find another pig to play with." Terry responded angrily, taking Blair by surprise.

"You don't understand, and I don't have time to explain it. I gotta go." The TA's response left no room for further discussion.

The situation had been taken care of by the time he reached the bank. He watched with alarm as Simon led Jim to his car, and sat him in the passenger seat. He maneuvered his way through the crowd, but was stopped just short of his goal by the captain. "He's fine, Sandburg. I could use your help with the hostages. Come with me." He cast a last look over at his partner, before following Simon.

When he finished up, Jim was in the interview room. He left a note on his desk, and went home to start dinner. There were two messages from Terry on the answering machine apologizing, and asking to buy him dinner. He wondered briefly how the student had gotten his home phone number, but dismissed the thought as he started rummaging in the frig for something to make for dinner.

He had a salad on the table, and chicken breasts in the oven when Jim came home. "Hey, dinner will be ready in 20 minutes. Plenty of time for a shower if you want."

"Thanks, Chief." Jim ran a playful hand through the long hair on his way by.

"I'm sorry about today, Jim. I won't lose track of time again." He said as they finished eating.

"You're excited about your article. I'm glad. To be honest, it's been a while since you've been hyper about your studies." He smiled fondly at his partner. "And thanks for helping this afternoon. Simon said you were really great with the little girls."

"You want to tell me what happened?" Blair asked, beaming from the praise.

"Bad situation all around. Divorced couple. The guy has a serious drug problem. He thought he could take the girls back. Not sure why he wanted to do it in a public place, though."

"H told me if you hadn't found a way in, it wouldn't have ended well." Jim shrugged, and started in on the dishes. The two worked in companionable silence for twenty minutes. Blair watched his friend carefully, once he realized that Jim's hands were shaking as he handed dishes over to be dried.

Jim got his donuts from the cart, and went over to Rafe's desk to sign off on a report. The young man with the cart leaned over the detective's desk, and dropped some liquid in his coffee.

Terry brought a gourmet lunch to Blair's office that afternoon to apologize, only to find that the TA had left for the day. The lunch was angrily strewn across the hallway.

Jim was bent over his paperwork, trying to keep his stomach from rebelling. Blair was in the chair beside him, before he realized he'd arrived. "Jim, you okay?" Blair asked, concerned that he'd clearly surprised his Sentinel.

"Fine, just tired." He wouldn't meet his Guide's eyes. Figuring he had the rest of the day to work out what was wrong, Blair moved to the paperwork. He did bring Jim some peppermint tea, which seemed to help settle his stomach. They conducted three interviews, and searched for a pattern in the latest jewelry robberies. By 6 p.m., Jim was feeling better, and offered to buy dinner.

Terry sat outside the loft for five hours, angrily waiting for Blair to come home. When he did arrive, a blue and white truck pulled up with him, and the tall detective slung a friendly arm over the TA as they moved inside. Blair's laughter filled the night.

Jim wasn't at his desk when the food cart came by the next day. When the young man started to leave the donuts, H stopped him. "Jim's with the DA, and will probably be there all morning. No point in leaving them."

Terry showed up with a full lunch, and Blair smiled. "Hey Terry, this is too much." They had their heads together for three hours, going over the research Terry had done. "This is great work, Terry. This article is going to rock!" The young man smiled at the praise.

The breaks on Jim's truck failed as he turned the corner six blocks from the loft. He was able to maneuver into a fairly empty parking lot and gear down to stop. He called his roommate.

"Sorry, Terry got to go. Jim's got car trouble, and needs a lift home."

"That's what he gets for driving that old heap of junk." The younger man muttered.

Blair's head shot up from his backpack. ""What?"

"I'll see you in the morning. Your roommate's lucky you're such a nice guy."

"Hey, Jim has bailed me out of trouble more times then I can count. It's nice to be able to repay the favor now and then."

While Jim was unhappy about the truck, having had new break lines put in just under a month ago, he looked better to his Guide, and his hands, as he lifted the spaghetti out of the pot, were steady.

When the garage called to say the break lines had been cut, Jim was livid – his guide, worried. Simon had them going back over old cases, and quietly told Blair to keep an eye on his partner.

Jim's stomach hurt. It was like he'd swallowed glass. He'd had two donuts and a cup of coffee in the last 12 hours, and it made no sense to him. He sent Sandburg back to school that afternoon, and left early. He told Simon he was going to stop by the garage, but went home instead, and after throwing up for a good hour and a half, he retreated to his room to try and sleep.

Blair took Terry to the local pub to celebrate the completion of the research. The young man was in his glory, but grew sullen when the TA said he couldn't stay for dinner.

Jim felt slightly better the next morning. He declined donuts, and had a cup of tea on his desk. When he went to Records, the young man from the food cart brought in a chocolate filled donut for Brown, and dropped a vial of liquid into Ellison's mug.

Blair was just settling his coat and backpack by Jim's desk when Joel appeared in the doorway. "Blair! Come quick, it's Jim."

His partner was lying on the break room floor. "Jim! Jim, can you hear me?" Blair asked softly as he knelt by his partner. "Joel, we need an ambulance," he cried out as the muscular body went into convulsions.

In the ER waiting room, Blair alternatively paced and sat. "It doesn't make any sense, Simon. What could he have come in contact with between leaving the loft and now that would cause this? We both had eggs for breakfast, so that's out. I dropped him off so he didn't pick up anything along the way…Rafe, did he have a donut?"

"No. He said his stomach was bothering him…I think it had been for a few days. He thought he was coming down with something. The only thing I saw him take was a cup of tea – and he made it himself."

"It was peppermint," Joel chimed in. "He told me it was easy on his stomach."

"Call forensics," Simon ordered. "I want the contents of his mug analyzed, and I want it printed."

When the doctor came out, he looked very serious. Blair flopped into the nearest chair, trying desperately to breath. "Detective Ellison is suffering from arsenic poisoning. He's not breathing on his own, and his heart rate is erratic. He's on his way up to ICU."

"Arsenic?" Simon repeated, slowly.

"From the amount he's ingested, he got a large dose sometime in the last 8 to 10 hours. From the preliminary results of our tests, this has been going on for at least a couple of days."

"Joel, you take Sandburg up to ICU. I'm putting an officer on Jim's room around the clock. And I'll find out what the lab knows. I'm going to send forensics to the loft. Rafe, Brown, you meet them there, check everything."

Jim lay covered in tubes and monitor lines in the small, dark cubicle. Blair, lips pursed together, stood at the end of the bed, studying the scene for several minutes before taking the chair at the bedside. "Hey big guy, as far as dramatics goes – you are looking at an Oscar.

Who the hell did you piss off badly enough to want to kill you – and brazen enough to get so close to do it this way? Man, this is so not good." He put his hand over the pulse point on a slender wrist and felt the slow, erratic beat of his Sentinel's heart.

There was an unknown set of prints on Jim's mug, and they were being run through the NCIC database. The arsenic had been placed in the mug after the tea had been made, as the tea bag fished from Jim's wastebasket was clean.

At 2 a.m. Blair entered the loft. He was exhausted, and haunted by the struggling pulse he'd felt all evening. He got a bottle of water from the fridge, and was headed for his room when a knock at the door startled him. "Terry? What…"

"I called the station looking for you. When they told me what happened, I went to the hospital, but must have just missed you. I wanted to make sure you were alright." He had a hand on Blair's shoulder, and pulled him in for a hug. Blair's weary body relaxed into the hold for a moment, before pulling back.

"Look, I really appreciate you coming over here, but it's late, and I need to be back at the hospital in a couple of hours, so…"

"Why don't I stay? You shouldn't be alone." He tried to pull him back into a hug, but Blair stepped clear.

"Terry, I appreciate your concern, but I need to sleep. And I won't be able to if you're here – no offense. Look, I'll call you later today, and give you an update, okay?"

"Sure, Blair. Just know you can call me – whatever you need."

As he got ready for bed, something kept bothering him about the visit. But he was too tired, and his thoughts to muddled to grasp it, so he let it go.

Blair nodded to the officer at the door, and went in. "Hey Jim, the Jags ruled last night. So you won that bet with Brown. H will not be happy when you try to collect, big guy. He owes you three stake outs now – ouch! It was a gutsy, but brilliant bet…they didn't find anything at the loft, Jim. Whoever did this was putting it in your food at the station. It worries me that it might be another cop."

"Rosie, it's good to have you back," Simon called out as he spied the food cart. "Everything alright with your family now?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" She looked up at the big man, perplexed. "It was nice to have a few days off – paid even - that's never happened before." Rhonda interrupted the Captain with a phone call.

A nurse handed Blair a note, shortly after noon, saying Terry was in the cafeteria if he wanted company for lunch. He asked Rafe to go down, described the young man, and asked him to make his apologizes. The doctor was expected shortly with information on the latest round of tests.

"Hey," Rafe called after the retreating figure, "Wait!" He caught up and the young man turned around. "Sorry…hey, you're."

"Yeah, look I'm not working now, and I got places to be."

"Sorry Blair, I couldn't find your friend. I even had him paged. Did run into the guy who's been taking Rosie's place. He isn't anywhere near as friendly outside the office." The doctor walked in, claiming Blair's attention.

There had been no hit on the prints found on the mug. Simon was sure there was something he was missing, as he sat staring at the tox screen results. He heard the food cart. "Rhonda, ask Rosie to come in here, and have Joel and Brown come in as well."

Rafe dropped Blair off at the loft. Terry caught up with him as he searched for his keys. "Hey, sorry about lunch, but Jim's doctor…"

"Not a problem. I brought you a salad and the veggie lasagna from Mario's you like – figured you probably hadn't had a chance to eat." He followed Blair in. "This is a nice place, it yours?"

"No, it's Jim's. He bought it when he left the Army. It suits him." He smiled as a memory of the two horsing around in the kitchen came to mind.

"You know, I have a three bedroom condo down on the water. My dad bought it for me – no roommates - if you're interested."

"What? Sorry, man, I was just thinking."

Terry repeated the offer and added "It's a great place, and I have a cook. We could throw dinner parties whenever you want."

"That's really generous of you, Terry, but I'm very happy here, with Jim."

"I don't get it. What's that old guy got on you? Look, I got plenty of money, whatever it is he's holding over your head, I can take care of it."

"You're way off base, man. Jim's my friend – my best friend. And this is the only place I've ever lived that I could call home. I'm happy here."

"What're you gonna do when the cop dies?" This brought Blair off the couch. "Look, arsenic poisoning is pretty serious; it could happen. You need to look out for number one here. I'll look out for you."

The phone rang. It was Simon. "Sandburg, I'm on my way over. I've got a sketch you need to look at."

"Simon, has what happened made the papers?" Blair asked as he saw Terry disappear into his room.

"No, not a line, and I don't intend it to, why?"

"How far away are you?"

"Four minutes, what's wrong?"

"Just hurry." He hung up and turned to face Terry, who was coming out of his bedroom. "Captain Banks is on his way over. He has some information we need to discuss."

"I get the hint. Call me later?"

"Will do, and thanks again for the food."

"That's…that's Terry, Terry Burns!" Blair gasped out as he sat staring at the police sketch. "He's working on an article with me."

"Has Jim ever met him?"

"Not to my knowledge. Simon, he knew Jim was poisoned with arsenic. I never told him."

"Blair, he paid Rosie Sullivan, who runs the food cart, $1500 to take a week off. He's been delivering food to Major Crimes."

"He asked me to move in with him." Blair said softly, eyes closed in pain.

"What?"

"Oh my god – he knew Jim drove a blue and white 69 Ford – He cut the breaks. He's going to kill Jim!"

"Why, Sandburg? Why?"

"He wants me. Thinks Jim is in the way. You got to find him, Simon; I think he'll keep trying."

"Sketch is already posted at the hospital. I want you to promise me you won't be alone with him."

"I promise, just please, find him before he tries again."

Terry's condo had a room full of pictures of Blair taken on campus, in front of the loft, and around town. It was clear that Jim had been cut out of many of them. Blair's name was on the condo deed, and a red corvette with vanity plates reading "ANTHRO PHD" was in the garage with Blair's name on the registration.

"I don't get it Jim. I didn't do anything to encourage him. He was eager, and I liked his enthusiasm but…he did get mad a couple of times when I left to work with you. I put it down to his youth…man was I stupid."

He was gently working the muscles in Jim's left arm and shoulder when Terry, in a doctor's smock, entered the room. "Hey Terry, I tried to call, but just got your voice mail." Blair said evenly.

"Sorry, I've been busy. But I'm here now, and all yours."

"Great, what do you say to lunch, then? I'm starved." Blair was on the far side of the bed, and didn't think he could make it around in time to get between his partner and his student.

"I have one last thing to do, and then we can go." He took out a needle and advanced to the IV. Blair felt Jim's hand tighten on his for a brief moment.

"Terry, please...leave Jim alone. I'll come with you, but don't hurt him. Docs are saying he probably won't make it anyway."

"Sorry Blair, but you won't be mine until he's gone. I'm doing this for you, for us. We belong together, and he's just in the way." He moved the needle into the IV and pushed down. Jim flung himself off the bed, pushing his would be killer to the floor. The heart monitors started screaming as Blair knelt down and pulled out the IV, before kicking the needle across the room. Simon, Joel and two nurses ran in at that point.

"We got him, Blair," Simon said as Joel unceremoniously jerked Terry to his feet.

Blair helped them settled his partner back on the bed. "Jim, you okay?" Blue eyes fluttered open, and Jim's right hand found Blair's wrist and squeezed. "I'm okay now, you?" Blair said in answer to the question in the tired blue eyes. A brief nod before the eyes closed.

Twenty four hours later, Blair sat perched on the bed in the private room. "What brought you back? I'd tried everything to get you to wake up."

"Heartbeat" was the hoarse reply. Blair shrugged in puzzlement. "Too fast, you were scared, had to protect…"

"So you're saying I can bring you out of a coma by watching a scary movie?" The question was accompanied by an insolent grin.

"Only if you want to end up in the hospital bed next to mine." Jim's growl was ruined when they both began to laugh.


End file.
